


Operation: Fuck This Shit

by ElderGodsAnonymous



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Blood, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Inappropriate Humor, Interrogation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Torture, flying under the influence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-09 14:19:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12278298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElderGodsAnonymous/pseuds/ElderGodsAnonymous
Summary: Hunk's not a fan of the idea that there are always going to be people trying to kidnap the paladins. He likes getting actually captured a whole lot less.Wherein the Garrison Trio gets captured by Galra, and it's up to Hunk, an injured Lance, and an incredibly drugged-out Pidge to break themselves free.





	1. Chapter 1

Hunk hates their new training exercises.

He doesn’t mind the combat practice, or the mental bond training that they do sometimes. A lot of the team-building exercises are okay, too. Flying and practicing with the Lions is the best, because any time Hunk spends with Yellow always rocks.

This, though. This Hunk makes a fuss about.

See, after they got Shiro back for what feels like the billionth time, Shiro and Allura got it into their heads that the group needed protocols in place for situations where someone gets captured. It’s fair, to be honest. Almost everyone has been in some sort of hostage scenario, whether by the Galra or hostile aliens or alternate dimensions or _whatever_ , so coming up with strategies was inevitable.

Hunk’s okay with coming up with strategies. Hell, he and Pidge spent a few days designing tools that could be hidden in their paladin armor and their undersuits. That part he doesn’t mind. He likes the toolkits and computer components they store in hidden compartments in their armor. The trackers he and Pidge install in all the suits is also a great idea, and not just for getting captured. The Lions all have them, so why shouldn’t they have them in their armor as well? Practical improvements.

It’s what Lance lovingly calls “Houdini training” that Hunk hates. Breaking out of handcuffs, escaping cells, looking out for security feeds, figuring out how to take down two opponents with your hands tied behind your back. Terrifying stuff like that.

Lance and Keith _love it_.

“It’s a pissing contest,” Pidge says, as Keith and Lance continue their increasingly stupid contest of breaking out of ridiculous confinement scenarios. They _time each other._ What the hell.

Shiro just shrugs at her. “It’s practical.”

“It’s the _worst_ ,” Hunk says, as Lance picks his handcuffs in under 30 seconds.

He can’t even claim that the training doesn’t work, because it does. During one bad mission, both Keith and Lance get thrown into a Galra prison, and it takes them all of 27 minutes to break free _with_ the rest of the prisoners _and_ blow up the entire prison behind them. Even Hunk had to admit it was pretty badass.

So yeah, all of it might be practical and good information, but that doesn’t mean Hunk has to like it.

Sure, Hunk can figure out how to break out of handcuffs. He can hot-wire basically anything that exists. No problem. Great, fantastic.

But it makes him nervous, like they’re daring the universe and inviting destruction. Practicing breaking out of prison cells? Learning sign language to communicate with each other while bypassing translation software so they can talk without being monitored? Shiro sitting down with them and going over what’s likely to happen if the Galra capture them for real?

All of it makes Hunk’s stomach churn. Not just because Shiro dredges up all that horrible information in his head for them, and not just the thought that there’s a very real possibility they might be tortured at some point.

Well, no, the thought of being tortured definitely bothers Hunk. He tries to not think about it as much as possible, or about his friends being tortured. Mostly, it’s the thought that any of this is necessary in the first place. That Hunk is in a position where he _has_ to learn this stuff to protect billions of other lives, that’s terrifying.

He doesn’t refuse to do the training, and he doesn’t really want to, but he makes his opinions known. It’s like throwing up: sometimes you just gotta get all the bad stuff out so you feel better.

 

Of course, everything goes to hell during the least convenient time possible, because the universe hates every single one of them in a deeply personal way.

It starts because of a diplomatic mission to a recently-liberated world. Hunk and Pidge aren’t necessary for this, and frankly they have better plans. Awesome plans. Plans cooler than trying to stay awake through super boring negotiations.

Hunk needs permission to get out of said diplomatic mission first, so he goes to find Shiro. Shiro, of course, is in the training room, sitting in a lotus position with his eyes closed.

“Hey Shiro,” Hunk says as he enters the room. “Whatcha doing?”

Shiro takes a deep breath. “I’m meditating.”

“Okaaaaay,” Hunk says. He hasn’t seen Shiro _meditate_ before. “Why?”

“Allura is making me talk to Slav in a few minutes,” Shiro replies without opening his eyes.

Hunk nods. “Right, yeah, makes sense. I mean, last time you went into Slav’s office, I heard the yelling in the _hangar_ . I didn’t even know you could _get_ that mad.”

Shiro’s eyebrow twitches. “Hunk, can I help you with something?”

“Yeah, Pidge and I found this really awesome Galra outpost that’s been abandoned, and we wanna go scrounge for parts to create a better interface than using your arm all the time,” Hunk tells him. “Figures it’s gotta be annoying and kinda unpleasant to have us messing with your arm all the time, so we’re trying to figure out better ways.”

Shiro opens his eyes and gives Hunk a small smile. “That sounds like a good idea. I can’t be in multiple places at once.”

“So you don’t mind if Pidge and I skip out on the mission to go scrap this outpost?” Hunk asks. “Because we’re planning on getting a lot of good stuff. The outpost isn’t too far away, just a couple of systems over. Again, totally abandoned.”

Shiro stands up, rolling his shoulders. “It’s not that important a mission,” he says. “Honestly, Allura’s already cemented the alliance. It’s just networking. I don’t see a problem with letting you two out of it.”

“Awesome! I’ll let you... uh... go talk to Slav, then,” Hunk replies. “Good luck with that.”

Shiro sighs, and rests a hand on Hunk’s shoulder. “Remember me as I am before you, not as I will be,” he tells Hunk before walking out of the room.

Hunk decides to make cookies for Shiro. The meditation must work, because there’s no screaming match, but Shiro has that eye twitch for the rest of the day. He seems extremely grateful for the cookies, and tells Hunk in no uncertain terms that he’s the light of Shiro’s life.

“Suck-up,” Keith tells Shiro.

Hunk points at Keith. “You watch it. I’m the only person on this ship who can cook actual food.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Keith says.

Hunk gestures at Lance and Pidge. “Pidge only knows how to put things in a microwave, and Lance once tried to make _tamales_ and wound up catching them on fire. I didn’t even know you could _do_ that.”

Lance groans. “My mom still brings that up. It was one time!”

“And I know _you_ can’t cook,” Shiro tells Keith. “Your idea of cooking is eating ravioli out of the can.”

“Excuse me, sometimes I actually put the ravioli in a bowl first,” Keith replies. “Mr. ‘I caught the Garrison microwave on fire twice making popcorn’.”

Hunk nods. “Without me, you’re all condemned to food goo, so be nice.”

“Fair enough,” Keith says after a moment of contemplation.

Damn straight. Hunk practically _owns_ this kitchen now, and if the other paladins don’t like it, they can always take their chances with Coran.

 

The next day, during a meeting before they’re to go down to the planet, Lance flatly refuses to go to the planet with everyone else, on the grounds that the aliens terrify him.

“Please, for the love of everything good in this universe, send me with Hunk and Pidge,” Lance begs Allura.

Allura is unmoved. “I don’t see the problem with you attending a diplomatic function,” she says. “You’re very good at this sort of thing. I don’t understand why you keep asking to get out of this.”

“Because usually we don’t have to go to _nightmare planets_ filled with living bug people that look like something straight out of a horror movie,” says Lance. “I couldn’t even get through the cultural overview. I threw my boot at the screen with the briefing photo.”

The Sciliria look like a cross between a mantis and one of those creepy long-legged centipedes if they’d been eating too much nuclear waste. Sure, they’re nice, but even Hunk couldn’t supress a full-body shudder when they first met.

Hunk sighs. “He’s always been afraid of bugs. I had to be the one to kill all the roaches that got into our room at the Garrison.”

“If you make me go down there, I will scream the entire time,” Lance promises.

“Is that why you kept refusing to get out of Blue when we went down to free their planet?” Allura asks.

Lance nods repeatedly. “Please don’t make me go to the nightmare planet.”

Allura looks at Shiro. “Is this common for humans?”

Shiro just shrugs. “More or less. Lots of humans have a fear of bugs. I met several Scilirians before, so I’ve had time to get acclimated.”

“I like bugs,” Keith says.

Lance points at him. “More proof that you’re an alien. There’s the sign right there.”

“Aside from the _actual confirmation_ from aliens?”

“I don’t make the rules, Keith.”

“What rules? What are you even talking about?”

Hunk looks at Shiro and realizes he’s wearing the same expression that he was earlier during his meditation session. Hunk can’t blame him. He doesn’t envy Shiro’s job _at all_.

Allura sighs and rubs her forehead. “Very well, I suppose you can go with Hunk and Pidge. Coran can stay here and coordinate, and Shiro and Keith will accompany me to the planet. Does this work for everyone?”

And that’s how it all starts.

 

Hunk remembers getting to the abandoned outpost. He remembers he and Pidge running around like kids in a toy store. He remembers that sure enough, no one had been there for ages, just like their intel said. He remembers Lance making running commentary while Hunk and Pidge took apart computer systems.

What he doesn’t remember is a fight. He doesn’t remember anything weird at all.

One moment, he and Pidge are arguing over parts, Lance standing behind them.

The next moment, he’s waking up in a purple cell.

It doesn’t make sense.

Hunk lifts his head to assess the situation. His hands are cuffed in front of him to a metal ring bolted to the floor, and the cuffs are lit with a yellow indicator. He can see Pidge to his right, her hands cuffed in the same, way, unconscious, and to his left, Lance, just the same. None of them are wearing their armor, just their black undersuits, and their helmets and bayards are gone too. He can see a camera in the corner, beside the door. They're being monitored, good to know.

Hunk blinks a few times, shaking his head. His head throbs like he's slept for too long, and there's a weird stiffness that’s settled in his muscles.

He's too far away from Lance and Pidge to reach them, and the cuffs have almost no slack. Hunk won't be able to stand up at all. He tests the metal, just a little, pretending like he's trying to stretch his arms. There's not much give. He thinks maybe, if he absolutely had to, he could rip the ring out from where it's bolted to the floor, but that's risky.

First things first, he needs to make sure Lance and Pidge are okay. They're both breathing, so that's good. He sees Lance's fingers twitch, and his brow furrows as though he's fighting whatever knocked them out in the first place.

Hunk has to clear his throat before he can speak, like his throat's gone dry. "Lance? Hey buddy, you waking up?"

Lance's eyes finally crack open. He makes a face, leaning on his arm as he lifts his head to look around.

"What the fuck," Lance says. "Keith is gonna give us so much shit for this."

Hunk chuckles. "It's good to know your priorities are in the right place."

Lance sits up, rattling his cuffs. "Still better than planet of nightmare bugs, honestly."

Hunk looks at Pidge. She's still out, but her feet are close to his, and he tries nudging her foot with his. "Hey, Pidge, wake up."

She doesn't move.

"Is she okay?" Lance asks.

"She's breathing just fine," Hunk says, trying to lean over to see her face. "I think she's just knocked out from... whatever that was."

Lance leans back with a huff. He looks up at the camera, then back at Hunk. "Looks like we're getting the star treatment. Can't get enough of my face, I guess."

Hunk rolls his eyes, but he knows what they're doing. Lance's first and foremost plan in any situation: be the biggest possible distraction. Hunk shifts until he's sitting with one leg on either side of the ring. It's uncomfortable, but hey, if they're going to be there a while, this is as good as he can get.

Hunk can feel the mini kit hidden just under the cuff of his undersuit, sewn into the lining. He shifts his hands around, acting like he's trying to scratch at his wrist, to see if he has enough manueverability to get at it. He does, just barely. Good. These cuffs aren't too different from what they've seen in the past. Hunk can probably deactivate them with the tools he has. Probably.

Lance can see what he's doing out of the corner of his eye, but doesn't look right at him. He's focused on the room around him, looking at the room and the camera and the rings in the floor.

"Man, you think any Galra designer ever get sick of purple? Like, they see it all the fucking time, _everything's_ gotta be fucking _purple_ , and they just wanna make something fuscia or neon green for once?" Lance asks, yanking on his cuffs. "I think if I were a soldier I'd get real sick of all this purple all the time, man. Purple armor, purple ships, purple goddamn _lights_ , bet they even shit purple-"

Hunk's about to laugh, but they're both cut off by the sound of footsteps coming toward the door. It slides open and four Galran soldiers step into the room, the foremost one being a tall woman with several battle scars crossing her face. Her fur is streaked through with white, and her left ear is missing several slivers.

"Ah, Paladins, welcome to my ship," she says, hands clasped behind her back. "My name is Corzia. I'm the commanding officer of this vessel, and should you find your stay here lacking in any way, simply let me know."

Lance laughs. "Oh, man, there are actual funny Galra out there. Looks like we hit the jackpot here, huh?"

Hunk doesn't like the look in her eyes as she smiles with all her teeth.

"I have an excellent sense of humor. What I find especially hilarious is that our latent defensive perimeter caught three, _three_ of the legendary Voltron Paladins, and the Green Lion. Truly amusing. We weren't even trying this time, and look how lucky we all are," Corzia says. She looks down at Pidge and nudges her face with her boot. "Seems the runt's still out. It's to be expected. The tranquilizer is designed for a fully grown Galran elite soldier, not an undersized child. I'm impressed this one even breathes. Seems humans are built stronger than they look."

Hunk frowns. Tranquilizers? Corzia mentioned perimeter defense, so they must be keeping an eye on any outposts they don't staff anymore. In case of... what, exactly? And was it a gas, or something else? Dammit, Hunk doesn’t _remember_.

"Man, that _is_ one hilarious set of circumstances," Lance says. "Glad you're here, though. I've got a question about Galra's shit-"

Hunk sees the small panel in Corzia's hand just as she presses her thumb to it. Lance's question is cut off with a gasp as a vicious current buzzes through his cuffs. It lasts less than a second, but that's too long for Hunk to see _that_ expression on his best friend's face.

Lance takes a deep breath as the cuffs dim back to their normal state. "Wow, rude, interrupt a guy while he's talking."

Corzia hums. "I've read the reports. I know what I'm up against. I don't really need to hear what you have to say. Honestly, I don't even _have_ to interrogate the three of you. I've already sent a request to have a druid take you off my hands. I've got my own job to do, though, and maybe you can help me with that."

"Nah," Lance says with a grin. "But hey, thanks for asking."

She eyes him for a moment. “Here’s my... dilemma, I suppose. I’m going to hand the three or so of you over to the druids when we rendevous. They’ll get all the information they want out of your brains, and I assume you’ll all die horribly. Maybe your castle flies to your rescue, who knows. I’ve got a mission, though, and if I get some information from you _now_ , I don’t have to wait on the druids to finish what I’m doing. Efficiency, and all that. But honestly, only one of you has to be alive to hand over to the druids, and I’ll get my intel in the end anyways. So, do you want to watch each other suffer and maybe die, or do you want to make my job just a _lot_ easier?” She holds up her hands as though weighing the options. “I’ll let you mull it over.”

Corzia waggles the little control panel in her hand, and smiles as she and the guards leave the room.

“This is just awesome,” Hunk says. “We got a villain monologue and everything. You think she’s got a doomsday device somewhere?”

“These things _kick_ ,” Lance replies, examining his wrists. He looks at Hunk, and holds his hands out in front of him, moving them across his chest. _Plan?_

Hunk grimaces. “I bet, buddy.” He makes the signs for _find green,_ disguising the motion as trying to stretch his wrists. “I don’t think that stuff was good for Pidge.”

“Pidge, wake _up_ already,” Lance shouts, slapping a hand against the ground. He scowls when she doesn’t so much as twitch. “Well, this sucks.”

As Hunk stretches his shoulder a little, he notices a twinge. Looking down, he can just see a pinprick in his undersuit, right where the armor would end, just over his collarbone. From a dart or needle, maybe? That’s probably what knocked them out. Tranq darts.

Well. That solves _that_ mystery, sort of. Hunk would like to know how they targeted where the armor wasn’t, and where the darts had come from in the first place, but he’s hyperfocusing on the wrong things right now. He shakes his head, trying to get back on the right track.

Lance looks at Hunk. “How are you doing? You okay?”

Hunk is not okay. Exactly zero percent of this is okay. They got knocked out and they’re prisoners on a Galra ship, and they are _absolutely about to be tortured._

But if Hunk starts panicking now, he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop. Anxiety thrums along his spine like a constant note, but he can keep it together. He has to.

“Yup, yup, I am keeping it together,” Hunk says, his voice a little higher pitched than he intended. “We’re pros, right?”

“We got this,” Lance tells Hunk wth a nod. “You got this. You’re the man, right?”

Hunk does not feel like the man. Shit, is he panicking? He doesn’t have time for this. He’s gotta make a plan. He’s gotta get them out of this.

“I’m good, I’m good,” Hunk replies, taking a deep breath. Let the breath out slowly. Four seconds in, hold for seven, let out for eight. His heart rate slows to something manageable, and he nods to Lance. “We got this.”

He hopes.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s been about half an hour, and Lance is still talking.

Lance, who Hunk loves very much and treasures as his very best friend in the entire universe.

Lance, who Hunk doesn’t want to strangle even a little bit.

“Like even Zarkon and Haggar wear purple all the time. All the uniforms are purple. I don’t get it. Is it a colorblind thing? Like, it’s the only color they can see so they put it on everything? That doesn’t make sense, you’re colorblind and you’re not obsessed with certain colors.”

Maybe the smallest bit.

“Why _are_ the Galra obsessed with purple?” Lance asks. “I mean, I was just talking out my ass when I started ranting about this, but now I’m legit curious. I can’t get it out of my head.”

Hunk wants to start picking at the cuffs, but he can’t get out the lockpick while facing the camera. If he blocks his hands from sight, he’s sure they’ll figure out what’s up and come in and probably murder them all. Or take the lockpicks away, which is just as bad.

“Dude, I don’t know, you think I know why the Galra do things? I’m an engineer, not an alien psychologist,” Hunk replies. He shifts a bit so he’s kneeling, sitting back on his heels. Hunk just wants to make sure that if he _does_ have to rip the ring out of the ground, he’ll have enough leverage to do so.

“Nice,” Lance says with a grin. “Keith isn’t obsessed with purple. He wears red. Like, all the time. Is he secretly obsessed with purple? I have to ask when we get back. Oh my god, this is driving me crazy.”

“Did you talk this much when you and Keith got captured?” asks Hunk. Because holy _shit_ , Hunk loves Lance to death but this is getting insane.

Lance shakes his head. “Oh, no, I rambled _way_ more. Keith punched me in the face for a distraction, but I’m pretty sure he got as sick of hearing me talk as the guards did.”

Hunk nods slowly. “It’s a terrible and dangerous power, to be used in the most dire of situations.”

“So I was thinking that we should start a boyband-”

“I’m going to have to stop you right there,” Hunk says, wishing he’d gone down to the nightmare planet with everyone else like someone who doesn’t split up like an idiot. “Whatever is coming out of your mouth next can’t be good.”

“-and we could call it Mental Boybond.”

Maybe Hunk should take up meditation with Shiro. “That’s the worst band name I’ve ever heard. Is this the torture? Because right now, I’m 50-50 for the Galra to come back, bud. It doesn’t even work, because Pidge isn’t a boy.”

“Okay, fair, but that’s not even the worst band name I can come up with!” Lance says. “What about Space Bat Apocalypse? The Galra are kinda space bats. Actually, that name is pretty cool, I’d start a band like that.”

Maybe Hunk can just knock himself unconscious and wait for Shiro and Keith to rescue them. He’s okay with that, really.

_What are you doing?_ Hunk asks with sign. He has to fingerspell most things, but it gets the point across.

_Need guards back for distraction,_ Lance says. _You hack whatever._

“Oh boy,” Hunk mutters. _I can’t. They can see my hands._

Lance frowns. “Well, I don’t have anything better to do.” _If they stand between you and the camera, you can do what you need to do while they deal with me._

Hunk grits his teeth and shakes his head. “Dude, I _hate_ everything about this.”

“I know, dude,” Lance says, rolling his shoulders. “But I don’t have a lot of ideas.”

Hunk looks over at Pidge for what feels like the hundredth time in the past thirty minutes. She still hasn’t moved. Hunk taps his knuckles against the metal floor, trying to think of any way they could get out of this without getting hurt.

Hunk examines the bolts holding the ring in the floor. It’s too bad these cuffs aren’t the simple energy bond ones he’s seen the Galra use before. Those are _easy_ to short out. He could deactivate the power running through them, but that would also take out the indicator lights, and alert the guards to what he’s doing, so he has to keep them on for now. The cuffs have some sort of independant energy source, but without taking the cuffs apart, Hunk can’t deactivate the shocking mechanism.

He’s got nothing, and he’s out of time, because he hears the echoes of heavy boots coming back down the hall. Lance sits up straight and nods at Hunk.

Corzia walks in with one other Galra and two drones, who stay outside the door. The other Galra is holding a box. Hunk does not want to know what’s in there, but he’s sure they’re all about to find out.

“Ah, the lady of the hour,” Lance says, with an easy smile. “How have you been? Catch me up on your day. Don’t leave a thing out, either, I must know _everything_ about you.”

Corzia eyes the two of them for a brief moment, then looks back at Pidge. Hunk’s never seen someone so spectacularly unimpressed before. “Oh well, I’ve worked with less,” she says, scratching her chin. “Shall we get to business, then?”

“We could just get out of your hair, you seem like a busy lady,” says Lance, emphasized with finger-guns.

Corzia looks at Hunk and does some sort of ear-twitch that looks like the Galra version of an eye roll. “Your friend is an idiot.”

“Factually inaccurate, and also rude,” Hunk replies.

“Tell you what, Blue Paladin,” Corzia says, “I’ll give you one shot to say something without being obnoxious about it. I saw the footage from that prison you and your friend blew up. If I just let you chatter away at me, I’ll have to carve out my own ears, and that’s a messy process.”

Lance wiggles his eyebrows. “Aw, you’re a fan! I love fans, I could sign something if you want, but these cuffs make it hard to write, you know? Tell you what, you get these off me and I’ll sign whatever you want, babe.”

She rolls her eyes upward. “I don’t know what I expected, honestly.”

Corzia nods to the guards, and the ring holding Lance in place deactivates. The guards haul him to his feet.

“Hey, don’t manhandle the goods,” Lance says, making a show of yanking his arms out of their grasp.

Hunk would start putting together the system bypass kit he’s got hidden in his sleeve, but the camera is still pointed at him and he doesn’t know if anyone’s watching or not.

The guards pull down another hook and lift Lance so he’s hanging by his arms, toes just barely brushing the floor. Corzia takes something out of the box, something with black straps, and moves toward Lance.

Hunk abruptly realizes what the thing in Corzia’s hands is.

It’s a _muzzle_.

Lance’s eyes go wide as she approaches him, and Hunk can see a flash of something metallic along the inside. “Wait, no, you really don’t have to do that-” Lance says, before clamping his mouth closed and turning his head away from her.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Corzia tells him, grabbing his jaw and digging her claws into his skin to force his face back to her. “That’s a good way to slice open your face. You can either open your mouth, or I’ll open it for you, and I can guarantee you won’t like the second option.”

Hunk can’t see what’s on the inside of the muzzle, but Lance’s face pales. Whatever it is, Lance must not think it’d be worth it, because he opens his mouth. Hunk can’t see what Corzia’s doing, but she straps the contraption to his face and yanks on the side of it, making Lance flinch.

“Interesting fact about _your_ species,” Corzia says, raising her eyebrows as she turns to Hunk. “Electrical current is not only painful, but also directly stimulates muscle contraction. Fascinating.”

Hunk doesn’t want to know where she got her information, but he hates the thought of it. The expression on Lance’s face is a mixture of pain and stubborn determination. Lance’s glare is a force on its own, but Corzia’s already turned to face Hunk.

“I’d avoid biting down on that bit, Blue Paladin,” Corzia tells Lance over her shoulder. “But hey, you do what you have to, and I’ll do what I have to.”

She looks _bored_. Hunk wants to snap her neck.

“So, Yellow Paladin, since my options are to interrogate you or your friend, and I know he’ll never say anything useful, I suppose you and I are going to chat,” Corzia says. “So. Let’s get to business, hmm? I’m a busy person. The rebel Galra, the Blade of Marmora. Know anything about them?”

Hunk blinks. That’s not what he expected to be questioned about. “What, seriously?”

She does the ear-twitch again. “I don’t care about your castle or your lions. That’s what the Druids are for. My job is dealing with rebel Galra, which is what our security systems are for in the first place. I was hoping we’d caught some of them, but whatever, this works too. Are you going to tell me anything, or should we get this interrogation on the road?”

Hunk doesn’t want this. He wants this to be a horrible nightmare, to close his eyes and he’ll wake up in the Castle.

It’s not. He doesn’t.

“Well?” Corzia asks.

Lance meets Hunk’s eyes. He signs deliberately. _No_.

Yeah, bud. Hunk knows. There’s no way Hunk can give up anyone, especially the people who risked their lives to help them take down Zarkon. That’s just not okay.

Then again, Hunk has another, way better idea.

“Sure,” Hunk says. “You have a datapad with you?”

Corzia raises an eyebrow. “All so simply?”

Hunk shrugs. He doesn’t look at Lance, though he can feel Lance’s eyes practically burning a hole in his skull. Lance is smart, he’ll figure out what Hunk is up to in no time.

One of the guards hands Corzia a holopad. She holds it up in front of Hunk, but just out of his reach.

“Let me say this,” she says, very carefully. “You do not want to waste my time, paladin. These things are so easy to check.”

How is she possibly going to check? She’d have to fly out there herself, and it’d give them plenty of time to plan. Plenty of time to escape, or for the Castle to find them. Even with the wormhole tech, it still takes time to get anywhere. She’s already on route for interaction with the druids, she said so herself, and there hasn’t been a Galra yet who isn’t _terrified_ of the druids.

So she’s bluffing about _something_ , be it druids or her ability to call him out. The other options are that she has other ships under her control or that she _is_ powerful enough to delay a meeting with the druids, neither of which seem likely.

Well, time to call her bluff.

“What, like I’m going to make things more difficult than they already are?” Hunk asks. “That’s not my thing. Literally anyone else on the team but me would do that.”

Okay, maybe that could have sounded more convincing, but Hunk’s under a lot of pressure. He really doesn’t want anyone to get tortured or killed or permanently maimed.

She tilts the pad toward him. “Coordinates.”

“I don’t remember the coordinates, but I can give you directions,” Hunk tells her after a long pause. Lance’s eyebrows raise in realization, and Hunk is sure that Lance would be grinning ear to ear if he wasn’t wearing some sort of horrifying torture-muzzle.

“You expect me to believe that you don’t remember the coordinates to an important base?” Corzia says, narrowing her eyes.

“First of all,” Hunk says, pretending to be deeply offended, “I’m not used to the intergalactic system you people use. That’s not what I do, I’m mostly just an engineer. We’ve been to so many planets, I can’t possibly remember the coordinates for all of them. It’s a string of something like twenty numbers, too. I don’t even know our own _planet_ ’ _s_ coordinates. I’ve been trying to learn all these different written languages and systems of measurement, I leave all the navigation to other people. Half your technology isn’t even standardized. Do you know how annoying that is?”

All of that is a lie, but Hunk’s pretty good at hiding his facial expressions. Probably because he sneaks into other people’s shit so often. His bad habits _do_ pay off, _Pidge_. Eh, he’ll wait until they’re all safe to tell her that.

Corzia frowns. “Twenty-four digit coordinates, but fine. Directions.”

Hunk doesn’t smirk. He’s so damn proud of himself for keeping a straight face.

He is going to waste every second of her time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing smart characters is difficult because they get ideas that are really good and then you have to postpone all the bloody stuff until later.
> 
> But seriously tho, why are the Galra obsessed with purple. HELP ME UNDERSTAND


End file.
